


Pancakes

by countermeasures



Category: James Bond (Movies), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-03
Updated: 2012-11-03
Packaged: 2017-11-17 16:12:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/553444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/countermeasures/pseuds/countermeasures
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“What are you doing?” Q walked into the kitchen and found James’ pants covered in flour. </p>
<p>“What does it look like I’m doing, I’m making pancakes.”</p>
<p>“But it’s 8pm!” Q gazed at the stack of food that was already on the counter, “and those aren’t pancakes.”</p>
<p>“Always following the rules, even when it comes to food,” Bond shook his head. “Come on, we can break one more, Q; live life on the edge!“</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pancakes

“What are you doing?” Q walked into the kitchen and found James’ pants covered in flour.  
  
“What does it look like I’m doing, I’m making pancakes.”  
  
“But it’s 8pm!” Q gazed at the stack of food that was already on the counter, “and those aren’t pancakes.”  
  
“Always following the rules, even when it comes to food,” Bond shook his head. “Come on, we can break one more, Q; live life on the edge!“  
  
“Fine, we can have breakfast for dinner. Those still aren’t pancakes, though; those are manhole covers.” Q looked at James and noticed that he‘d even managed to get flour in his hair.  
  
“Since when is size important?” James put a spoonful of batter in the pan, “They’re Dutch. This is how they’re supposed to look.”  
  
Q was biting his lip to hold back the giggle that he felt starting in his stomach, but he failed miserably. Before he realized what was happening, he had batter on his glasses. He ducked just in time to avoid a second attack.  
  
“Just get the syrup and let me finish. Do you want something on yours?”  
  
Q just stared. “You mean a topping? Like on a pizza?”  
  
“Yes, what else would I mean? I’ve already made some with cheese, with bacon, and this one has pineapple.” He saw that Q wanted to comment, but he stopped him before the words came out. “Don’t start. Pineapple works, trust me.”  
  
Q threw his hands up in defeat. “This is unfair. You have all the ammo and I have nothing!”  
  
James slid the pancake on top of the others. “That’s not true. You have the beauty and the brain, I have pancake batter. You definitely have the upper hand.”  
  
He nearly dropped the spoon when he felt Q’s breath on his neck. “Your flattery won’t get you anywhere until you feed me, 007.”  
  
“Just eat.” He steered Q to a chair and placed a plate in front of him. “You’re in luck, you can go crazy with the icing sugar.”  
  
“You must be joking.”  
  
“I never joke about my work.”  
  
“You mean I can put icing sugar on this?” Q investigated the pancake in front of him. “You said there were toppings. I know I need my glasses, but…”  
  
“They’re inside.” James smiled at Q’s confused look. “Now eat before they are cold, or I _will_ feed you.”  
  
Q hesitantly cut off a slice and found a piece of pineapple. Surely James couldn’t be serious. Putting it on a pizza was one thing, but this was taking it to another level. He stopped the fork right before his mouth and just looked at the man standing impatiently next to him. “James, this is ridiculous.”  
  
“You have the chance and my permission to put a sugar bomb in your mouth and you are hesitating?” He reached for the fork and fed Q the bite.  
  
Q’s face scrunched up at the first rush of sour and he was ready to complain when the sugar hit. He couldn’t help but moan and he grabbed the fork to devour the rest. “James, you are a genius, this is the best thing I’ve ever tasted!” Q took a second to look at James before delving back in and saw that he was practically beaming with joy.  
  
“The best thing? Are you sure? Your face looks like that one time we-,” James started to tease when the red phone rang. “It’s like she bugged the place, she does this every single time!” He could’ve been talking to the wall because Q was too focused on achieving a sugar coma, so he answered.  
  
“Sorry Q, duty calls, you have to leave the pancakes behind.”  
  
Q looked at him like a puppyhad just been told he wasn’t allowed on the couch. “Can’t we take them with us? Doggy bag? I’m certain they’ll be delicious cold as well!”  
  
James merely looked at Q, shook his head, and gave him a tupperware box. “Just don’t tell anyone I made them for you.”  
  
  



End file.
